Vespers Rising (The 39 Clues #11)(10)

He was about to reset the timepiece, douse the oil burner, and close up the lab when a voice spoke behind him: “Father.”

Luke had slipped through the interior doorway, which should have been impossible. Somehow, he’d managed to undo Gideon’s foolproof bolt system. Now he stood there fully dressed, looking agitated.

“Luke?” Gideon managed. “What are you —”

“They’re coming, Father!”

“What do you mean? Why aren’t you in bed?”

Luke waved the question aside. “Couldn’t sleep, of course. They’re coming! Vesper and his men. You have to …” Luke glanced around the laboratory. He noticed the sealed containers, the fuses, the timepiece and burner, and with unnerving quickness he seemed to understand his father’s plan.

“A time-delay explosion,” Luke said in amazement. “You’ll destroy the house, the formula — everything. But there’s no time for that, now! The enemy is almost —”

A fist pounded on the lab’s exterior door. Gideon’s heart crawled into his throat. His enhanced senses should’ve registered the danger much earlier, but the same serum that had made him formidable was now betraying him, making his mind go fuzzy. Of course he should’ve realized: Lord Vesper had scented his prey. He wouldn’t wait until morning. He would strike while Gideon was still unprepared.

“Luke, get out of here,” Gideon ordered. “Wake the others and sneak away now.”

“Give me the full serum!” Luke pleaded. “I can help you fight!”

He’s already taken his fourth of the serum, Gideon realized. That explained how he sneaked past the security measures so easily. It explained the swift new cleverness in his eyes — how he had picked out details in a dark room and immediately reconstructed his father’s plan. Luke had always been impetuous, but taking the serum? An unforgivable risk.

Still, at the moment Gideon was glad for his son’s recklessness. It might allow him to save the rest of the family.

The exterior door shook again under the pounding of metal-clad fists.

“Luke, listen to me.” Gideon grasped his shoulders. “Even together, we cannot defeat Vesper and all his men. He has assassins everywhere. I know what I’m talking about. Your only hope is to leave now. Wake the family and get out!”

“But the others won’t trust me!” Luke said. “They never do. And how will you get away?”

Gideon didn’t answer.

Luke’s face paled. Gideon could see comprehension dawning on him. “Father, the master serum … you said it was too dangerous. You meant fatal, didn’t you? You’re dying …?”

“You must protect the family now.”

“But—”

“Go, Luke.”

The door rattled and the hinges creaked.

“I love you, Father,” Luke said, his voice wavering. Then he slipped inside.

Gideon barred the door and reset the bolts. He could hear Luke moving heavy furniture to blockade the other side.

Then the exterior door shattered, and two of Vesper’s guards stepped into the laboratory.

They were both dressed in steel and leather brigandine armor. Vesper’s lieutenant, Balthazar, stood at the right, his sword unsheathed. On the left stood the baron’s executioner and strong-arm enforcer, who went by the name of Craven, though it did not fit his appearance. His eyes were a frightening milky white, and his arms were as thick as fence posts. His battle-ax was flecked with splinters from breaking down the door.

Lord Vesper himself stepped through next, dressed in black robes and chain mail. Damien was older than Gideon by at least five years, but he had no hint of gray hair, nor a wrinkle. The commoners swore Lord Vesper had made a deal with the devil to stay young. If Gideon had been superstitious, he might have agreed. The lord’s curly black mane, handsome face, and dark, hungry eyes had not changed in a decade.

“Good evening, Gideon.” Damien tugged off his gloves and scanned the lab. His eyes fixed on the nearest worktable, where Gideon’s distillation was in progress and his texts neatly stacked. “Thank you for compiling your research for us. It makes things much easier. And that would be the mysterious concoction? Excellent. Balthazar, if you please …”

Before the lieutenant could step forward, Gideon grabbed the end of the fuse wire. He held it within an inch of the burner’s flame.

“Come any closer,” he warned, “and you all die.”

Balthazar snorted and started to advance.

“Wait,” Lord Vesper commanded.

Damien’s keen eyes examined the scene more closely — the incendiary charges, the wires connecting them, the timepiece and burner. Only Gideon’s own daughter Katherine could’ve rivaled Damien for mechanical genius. The baron’s lips curled into a dry smile as he appreciated the trap Gideon had created.

Balthazar waited uneasily, no doubt wondering why he was being held at bay by a crazy old alchemist with a piece of rope.

Damien tutted with disappointment. “Really, Gideon, are you willing to destroy yourself, your family, and your precious research? Would you sacrifice everything you’ve worked for just to thwart me? There is no need for that.”

“I can’t let you have the formula, Damien. It will die with me.”

Damien tried to read his face. Gideon had seen him do this with so many people over the years. No one in his right mind would gamble with Lord Vesper and certainly not try to bluff him. Gideon was not bluffing, but Vesper would have trouble believing that. Self-sacrifice was a foreign concept to the baron.